Chuck

Yeah, bring us home, Chuck.

Six months later, I met Mrs. Stanley in a country house in England.

We talked on many subjects, and at last she said, Oh, that's me?

no he's got cancer they don't even advise an operation for there is no hope of a cure he is riddled with it the doctors say now during all these six months i do not think a day has passed on which i had not had in my mind the dreams parentheses or whatever you like to call them which i had not seen in the villa cascana

It is awful, is it not?

She continued.

What's a villa?

I asked.

She looked at me in blank surprise.

She asked.

Then she told me.

In the unoccupied bedroom a year before, there had been a fatal case of cancer.

She had, of course, taken the best advice and had been told that the utmost dictates of prudence would be obeyed so long as she did not put anybody to sleep in the room, which had also been thoroughly disinfected and newly whitewashed and painted.

But... That's it.

I did, too.

Yeah, it just ends with, you know, that room had cancer in it, it seems like.

Yeah, Inglisensis.

So maybe it's a vanity tale, morality tale.

All right.

Moving on, then we come to my pick, which is it's called The Deep Browse.